


Lucky You

by TheLiminality



Series: High Violet [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Descriptions of suicide, Gen, Graphic Description, Other, Post Reichenbach, of anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLiminality/pseuds/TheLiminality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories are like corpses.<br/>They’re just as heavy.</p><p>Written in John's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky You

I remember you like a heavy fog settling deep within the tissues of my lungs. The scent of you lingers against my chest. Your voice rests deep within my ribs. Shifting with these thoughts of you. The way you ran, paced, find a home in my muscles. Weakening and damaged now. The very core of your mind rests deep between my bones and marrow. When air is released from a joint, I swear you escape with the promise of a whisper. But only pain follows. 

Do you know how exhausting it is to carry this weight around, Sherlock? I underestimated the weight of you. I thought, even in death, you would be svelt. Light. A bag of bones you could list and make it sound like poetry dripping from your tongue. You deceived me yet again. This weight, this endless burden of you, breaks me. I carry you within my body and on my back. 

London is impossible without you, therefore you come with me. Your name is metaphorically carved into every goddamn building I (we) pass. I cannot look down roads without remembering your fucking maps. I refuse to follow them. I get angry when I do, and I am sorry. But how am I meant to find my way around London when all I see is you in the faces of the endless, unhappy strangers? You’ve taken every bit of my life, Sherlock.

And you’re dead. 

You died. Soared off of a building and ended your life. Only to take over my own. I feel like your puppet. And somedays I cannot stand it. I want to reach into my skin, pulling you off of me. Every last bit of you until my tendons are clean and straight. Then I’ll remember this is the only life you have now. Through me. I swear, when I have thoughts like these, I hear you speaking. “Never leaving. Never leaving. Never leaving.”

I’m never getting rid of you, Sherlock. Even when I want to. Even when I pray to a god you didn’t believe in. You’re always here. And christ, you are wearing me down. I remember being whole once, yeah? You robbed me of that. I feel less than half. These manipulated organs of mine making you more than half of me. You’ve infected my fucking blood stream and you did it with such ease I swear you planned it. You bastard. 

You’re dead. And you've never felt more alive.  
I’m alive. And I've never felt more dead. 

Lucky you.

**Author's Note:**

> High Violet Series part Four.  
> Song (by The National); Lucky You
> 
> This is another part of my High Violet series. To make this series more challenging for me, I sit, listen to the song (in the titles) and write. What I write is what I post. No matter the length. It was from pure inspiration of the song.


End file.
